Heat
by DagmarIceBlade
Summary: Rawr the Khajiit wants to have a go at everything outside her door. That's why she stays inside. (Crack, written for the Skyrimkinkmeme.)


Written for a prompt on the Skyrimkinkmeme about Khajiit being in heat. Crack!

* * *

A knock on the door. Rawr rolled her eyes and slowly sat up in her bed, the blanket falling away from her. Not again. She preferred people to leave her be when she stayed in her nest. Should've gone to Whiterun. Fewer thieves to pay her a visit.

Fortunately, she wasn't tangled up in string. Instead, it was _worse_.

Shivers went up her spine, her skin crawling with a need to be touched, fingers flexing, ears flicking back and forth. The blanket she had rolled herself in had only helped a little bit, at least affording her a safe place away from the outside world. Away from _people_ who she could hug, kiss…

A growl of frustration and embarrassment escaped her, and she got up.

Perhaps it was important. Perhaps some dragon attacked the city and she could go out and vent her frustration.

(She chose to ignore the possibility that she would probably hug to a pulp whatever guards decided to help her out. Or that she might try to convince the dragon not to eat anyone but to let her snuggle up to him. Those spikes must be amazing to scratch her back against…)

With a sigh, she unlocked the door, and found no dragon, but Brynjolf mid-knock.

"Hello lass, was wondering if I'd have to pick the lock again." He smiled.

Rawr's grip on the doorknob tightened as she stared at the Nord. Too cheerful for her today. Too _close_ for her today. It was worse than she thought, anticipatory shivers already racing up and down her limbs and spine, and the man just _stood_ there.

She promptly closed the door again, trying hard to ignore the surprise on the man's face.

"Lass?" Sound of knuckles on wood.

"Please leave this one in peace," she rasped, still holding the doorknob as if it would open the door on its own volition.

"Are you well, Rawr? Heard you had some trouble with Vex."

She sighed, ears turning sideways on her head. The story would spread, wouldn't it? "What did you hear, dearest Nightingale?"

"She wouldn't say, but Rune told me you… lass, can't imagine you want whole Riften to know." Sighing theatrically, she opened the door again, gesturing him to come in. He crossed the doorstep and raised an eyebrow. After a long moment, he said: "Are you _purring_, lass?"

Ears flat to her head, growling low and throwing the door closed, she dearly hoped to mask the low purr with a more aggressive sound. "This one did not."

Couldn't he stand a little further away? On the other side of the room perhaps? Not so close, where she had to look and listen and wishing… she scratched the wood of the door with a claw, her other hand twisting one of the golden rings around a dreadlock.

"Are you all right, lass?" His voice dropped, smooth and soft, like a warm embrace caressing her ears and wrapping itself around her.

He laid a hand on her shoulder and murmured something about Rune and Vex and Cynric, but she didn't hear any of it, as her blood suddenly rushed, burning through her veins. The hand. On her shoulder. Hand. On. Shoulder. She _purred_.

"Lass?"

If she had any less pride, she would have told him to stop the smooth low voice because it made nothing easier and everything harder right now. She was a _Khajiit_. If anyone, she needed a fellow Khajiit right now, not a Nord. She would even pounce J'zargo and she was ever so grateful for not being in Winterhold.

"What did Brynjolf say about Vex?" She smiled weakly, and twisted away from him, his hand dropping from her shoulder. The lack of contact made her growl before she could stop herself.

"That she is furious at you. And we haven't seen you for three days after you stormed off."

"Did Rune say anything… else?"

"What else did you do but lick Vex's face clean?" His eyebrows rose, then descended into a scrutinizing look.

"Nothing," she rasped. Her hand traced her ear, tugging one of her ear rings, before settling on a dreadlock again, all the while staring at a point just besides the man. This one is not here, and not speaking to Brynjolf about things that injure this one's pride.

She had suddenly found herself hugging Rune and Cynric when she had returned to the Cistern. Rune _may_ have gotten a bit more than a hug. And then Vex, who was not too happy about the tight embrace and tried to peel Rawr off her. The final drop (for both Vex and Rawr) was the lick the Khajiit had given the woman, going all the way from jaw to temple, after which Rawr had scurried out of the Flagon and gone straight to her nest.

Part of her wanted to pounce the man before her to the ground and give in to those urges that kept resurfacing every damn time he said something or looked at her. Or just _standing here, in her house_. But he was a _friend_. And she could not insult her own _pride_ like that.

"Don't speak a word of what happened, please." Rawr clamped herself against him, arms tight around his waist, cheek resting against his chest. She noticed herself purr louder, becoming raspy and persistent. The sudden touch after two days of craving for some sort of contact had her shiver and if anything, she wanted more. Why had she allowed him _in_ instead of keeping the door between her and the world? She could apologize later, and he would understand…

"Lass?"

She growled in response and felt his hands on her shoulder blades.

"I would like to breathe."

"This one apologizes."

Apparently not aware of the effect it had on her, he closed his arms around her in an embrace. He must have thought she just needed a hug. Her blood roared through her veins, and she clawed absently at his back. Let this never end.

"Lass? Could you not scratch my armor?"

"This one apologizes," she mumbled between purrs.

"Now tell me what's bothering you," he said in a soothing, velvety voice that did nothing to calm her down.

She wagered a look at him. It he hadn't been so tall, she would have licked his face. Then she growled. "No."

"It is something… embarrassing, then?"

"Must you always be amused by this one's injured pride?"

"No harm meant, lass." He paused for a moment, trying to find the words. "Are you in _heat_?"

She froze, both in body and in mind. The only sound was her own purring, which seemed to fill the room completely. Gods, she hoped nobody outside would hear. "What does Brynjolf know about that?"

Brynjolf slid his hands along her arms – and this time it were no mere shivers along her limbs, but rather hot surges that brought a contented sigh from her lips – and pulled her hands away, holding them at the wrists. "I've known you long enough to pick up a thing or two about Khajiit."

It would be so much easier if he _hadn't done that_. Then she would not have been reminded of the delicious feeling and she could just pretend not to want it. "You… do know what it means, do you not?"

"You haven't started tearing my clothes off," he said, chuckling, "so…"

Whatever heat had been growing in her and she had been suppressing, now fully flared up and she looked up at Brynjolf with what must have been an utterly predatory grin. He was a Nord, not a Khajiit and this was wrong, but sweet _Azurah_.

Brynjolf smirked, but then his expression shifted to something more serious, his hands on her wrists tightening just a little bit. "Lass, don't look at me like that."

"So Brynjolf _doesn't_ know." She took a step closer and looked up at him, still the look of a hunter about her. She couldn't have him, and it would be better if she didn't even consider it, but could he stop making this _worse_.

He pushed her back by her wrists and shook his head slowly and deliberately. Something shifted, and she suspected he started to understand. "No, lass, I _don't_ know." He paused, then sighed and his grip on her wrists softened. "No, lass."

Rawr growled low, a sound that mingled in a strange way with her purr, and looked away. Her ears pointed to the side for a moment, before returning to their straight position on her head. She still wished for more, but an outright _no_ she couldn't ignore even if she _did_ want to hug and kiss and screw (almost) everyone on the other side of that door.

It was a bittersweet relief, a pang of shame to her pride combined with the knowledge he didn't let her do anything stupid. Why was it always _him_ who saw her hurt her pride? Although she supposed it was better to have one person see them, instead of many.

"This one thinks you have much to learn about Khajiit, still, dearest thief."

"You're the first one in our Guild, as far as I can remember."

"Who would have expected that with these ones' reputation?" Rawr said, with a wry smile.

Brynjolf smirked back, his flirtatious mood apparently returning. "I'll tell Vex to leave it."

Rawr shrugged. "This one _did_ lick her face. Rawr wouldn't be pleased with those suddenly licking this one's face, either." That beautiful, fair, angular face with the blonde hair – no, not now. Not with Brynjolf still around. "This one should be back in a few days… and will amend the pride of Vex, and Cynric, and Rune."

"You don't have to worry about the two lads," Brynjolf said, "their prides are hardly scratched."

Her ears twitched and her wry smile returned. Their pride may not be, but hers was. She was not looking forward to her return to the Cistern. "This one will think about it."

"Take care, lass." He buried her in a large embrace, one she couldn't easily escape from. The sensation of being touched, even if he was in his armor, made her shiver once more. She purred and growled at the same time.

"It is good Brynjolf leaves, for he certainly has _no idea_." She growled, but her tone was less accusing and more lighthearted.

He left, one last wink at her, then the door closed. She walked to her bed, curled herself up in the blankets and hoped _very hard_ it would be gone tomorrow.


End file.
